Red Dead Repentance
by LASTkNIGHT
Summary: The year: 1905. Dutch van der Linde's gang is terrorizing West Elizabeth. When Dutch Recruits a former school teacher, and would-be gunfighter, their luck starts to run dry. Allegiences are questioned, lines are crossed, and all that is left, is remorse.
1. Dutch van der Linde: Hero

**Chapter 1:**

**Dutch van der Linde: Hero**

In West Elizabeth the winter months are nothing if not harsh, in point of fact there is no greater understatement. On a calendar, they are the mark of death. The cold being responsible for more deaths per year in the region than outlaws - most years. But this is not most years, and these are not your average outlaws.

The wind whips like flying flags against their stinging ears, the three riders approach Evergreen Farm on horseback. A rider in a black business suit leads them, absent a hat, with a scarf tucked deeply into his vest, hiding a tie that is almost surely underneath. At once he sees plainly before him, five men on horseback, two more than those that make up his party, he nearly stops altogether when he sees the man upfront has his rifle raised in the air, as if the weapon itself is the flag of his nation. He presses forward cautiously as the five man band rides toward them.

"Who are you?" The business man asks as they meet him.

"Dutch van der Linde" comes his reply.

"Mr. van der Linde. This here's private property. Owned by Southwestern Railroad. You are trespassing. If you ought not be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, I suggest you leave, so our men and I can go about our business."

Dutch looks embittered at the youthful business tycoon, as if bile has come through his throat tract. "Well now, I've lived here _maaaany _years, and from what I can gather this farm here," his hand wafts in demonstration, "belongs to a Mr. Purvis."

"Mr. Purvis signed a legally binding contract a month ago which gives Southwestern unquestionable rights over his - **former **- farmland. He may have since changed his mind, but as I'm sure you're aware, it is not within his legal rights to do s-"

"Mr. Purvis told me that he was coerced into signing that contract, and I'll be goddamned if he knows what was in it, because..." his head bobs rhythmically to each following word; "Mr. Purvis can't read word one."

The business man leans forward in his saddle hesitantly, "That's ludicrous, the man couldn't sign his name if he couldn't read and write."

"That ain't true. Because I've known him long enough to know that he could, and it's not because he can write, because it's the only thing he ever learned to jot down - but that don't mean he wanted to, when he did."

The man sighs. "Whether it be his name, or an 'X', if it's his mark, it's our land."

"See, that's where you're wrong." Dutch pulls a pistol from his holster.

"If there's an issue here, you take it up with the law."

"Keep fightin' me on it. And we might have to settle this matter, here."

"Mr. van der Linde you don't seriously expect me to believ-" a bullet cracks open the lower part of the man's jaw, a stream of blood flows down his neck, across the fine cloth product of his expenses. He slumps off his horse, into the snow, the stream of red violating white, it's warmness melting much of it - steam rising out, into the air above his ruptured face.

The two other men yank their horses back, they watch as the wounded man crawls desperately forward. Dutch puts another bullet in the top of his head as a passing crow objects to the noise.

Then silence.

Dutch looks at the remaining business men. "Now there's only three of you - well two now - I got no idea what you come up here for, but this farm belongs to Purvis, if you bring Chinamen up here to start building, unless they get wise; they'll be dead Chinamen. I'll blow every foot of track you lay, until graverobbery would appear a more lucrative enterprise by comparison. You bring so much as a Pinkerton man up here; well, don't think that'll stop us none neither." He points his gun. "Do you know what I'm capable of now?"

"Yes sir." a man chimes in, "I wasn't involved in uh... any hoodwinkin', sir. I'm just a working man, sir. - Honest - Honest to God. I only met these boy today."

"Shut up..." his associate, and older companion, tells him quietly, as their fingers tighten over their reins, pulling their horses away slowly.

"Get on outta' here!" van der Linde screams, "GO ON! GET!"

The two men ride off, too petrified to look back.

Mr. Purvis, a thin man, a few years older than Dutch, pushes open his door and scrambles down the porch steps, "DUTCH!"

Dutch and his men turn to see him.

"Dutch." The man is out of breath upon reaching their horses, he undoubtedly began that way, "You didn't have to do that. You didn't have to kill that man."

"Yeah, I did. You ain't gonna' scare these boys away with rifles and hard looks. Business men see money and they're blinded by it's glow. You gotta' put the light out."

"Yeah, but Dutch... when I asked for your help I wasn't expectin' this!"

"Well what were you expectin'?" Dutch looks at his boys, who all smirk, or cackle. Then the air becomes awkward. "Well... it ain't none of my business if a bunch of suit wearin' city boys come up here and take your home away; if you're tellin' me you don't want me to have nothin' to do with it. That's your right." he looks over at the corpse "But I just killed a man because you asked for my help. Now the law ain't likely to forgive that on either accounts; yours or mine. If you say I acted of my own accord they're going to find that rather curious..." he tilts his head as if to say; 'You know what I'm saying'

"But that's the point, Dutch, I - I got enough trouble," his breath holds on the last word. "You know. I gotta family, I got mouths to feed. - How'm I s'posed to convince them that this weren't me? That this had nothin' to do with me, hell - you know I ain't got money to pay you. How do they know that?"

Dutch looks out over the horizon, then back at Purvis. "You really regret bringin' me out here, do ya'?"

The man holds both hands to his chest, then spreads them outwards, "I -" he lets out a terse breath "I regret what's happened Dutch. I can't." he takes his hat off holding it to his belly, "I didn't think I'd be havin' the guilt of murder on my conscience. That probably sounds dumb, huh?"

"No, Purvis, that ain't dumb. You're an illiterate farmer. You scare easy at the sight of a gun, thought maybe railroad men worked just the same. But they don't." Dutch sighs, "I still gotta ask you somethin' Purvis..."

"Yeah Dutch? What is it?" Purvis scratches his head.

"You know they'll take this farm, right?"

"Yes sir," Purvis says wiping leakage from his nostrils, "I done prepared for it," puts his hat back on, "since you shot that boy... Mena - menta-... in - uh - in my head, I mean." He tilts up his hat to see Dutch better.

"You're 'bout to die out here, without any money; in the dead of winter."

"Don't I know it." Purvis replies in defeat.

"Jack!"

A man in a tweed vest, bowtie, and long overcoat rides up alongside Dutch; as one of his men. Jack, 35 or 40 years old, looks a lot like a professor, if a professor were left out in the harsh ends of each season, with a penchant for hard nights, and hard drinks. His face; scholarly, but sharp at it's curves, and rough. If street smart had a face, it would be the face of Jack Pleasance. A veritable paradox of a man. "Yeah, Boss."

"Give Purvis some folding money." Jack reaches into his pocket. "John?"

The calloused, but otherwise comparatively immaculate face of John Marston looks to his leader, and father figure; "Yeah, Dutch."

"Burn Mr. Purvis' house to the ground."

"Whatever you say." John answers, then rides off.

Purvis looks horrified.

"It ain't your house no more." Dutch explains. "John'll make clear what he's here on. You and your family take what's important, and you leave the rest; buy you some replacements for it later. The law comes askin' what happened here, you tell'm Dutch van Der Linde shot some railroad boy so he could rob your house hisself."

"What about them other two?"

"They won't say nothin'."

"Dutch, I - I can't thank you enough! I ain't got no way to repay you."

"Hush up now, I didn't ask you for nothin' the first time, and I sure ain't expectin' nothin' now. What with you bein'... homeless and all." he talks as if it pains him just to think of it, "I'm here to help you, I don't want no favors, it upends the point."

"Still, I feel awful, crummy." Purvis says with his head low. Jack hands him a large wad of cash.

"You could give us your wife for a day..." Dutch suggests plainly. 'Yeehaw' comes behind Dutch, from Bill Williamson; at the suggestion. Dutch looks back at him with a smirk. There's an awkward silence as Purvis keeps his head low. "It was a joke." Dutch admits.

Purvis lets out a nervous laugh, "Hell, I knew that." He slaps the cash against his palm.

Dutch wrinkles his nose, taking in a quick sniff, "Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I think that's about it, Dutch. - Thank you." Purvis holds the money he's been given, as he had his hat, with a feeble, cowardly posture, as Dutch called to his men to ride on. "Wait, Dutch. Hold on a minute!" Purvis calls to him, and Dutch stops to let him speak, "I'll prob'ly go down to Nevada or somethin'... I got family up there, I... still got family down here too. You... look after them for me, will ya'?"

"Sure thing, Purvis."

"What a bunch of **SHIT**!" Williamson decrees on the road. "What was the point in all that! He asks for help, so Dutch busts open some railroad bastard's neck, then we burn his house down, the one we came to protect, the one Dutch shot the guy for in the first place. - Give him half our money? What did we get outta' all this!"

Dutch pulls his horse as close to still as possible. "William, what _did _you get out of it?"

"**Nothin**'!" Bill answers, confrontationally, knowing that's not what Dutch wants to hear.

"We gave a man, and his children, peace of mind."

"It's freezing cold, we could die out here tonight. We got no food - we ain't got hardly no money! We could die, but he has peace of mind!" Williamson cackles at the thought. "And eeeeeeexxxcccuuuse me, if I don't see how burning down his house is a good way to help him keep it!"

"He wanted our help, and we gave it to him, conditional to the situation as he saw it. It isn't our business to decide what's best for him."

"What about us! What _is _our **business**! - Dutch! That's what I keep askin' you? Maybe I'm an _idiot_, but we didn't bring that money for him, right? Am I wrong? It's gone and we could die!"

"'We could die'... That's an interesting thought, William. 'We could die.'..." He repeats. "We **can **die, understand? See the leaves on those trees over there?"

"What're you talkin' about Dutch?" asks the bandito Esquella, "It's winter, there are no leaves." his voice is leading, like maybe he knows already where Dutch is going with this.

"That's right, and you know why; cause they're dead. Everything dies, William. On down to eternity. You have to determine what value you will place on the time you have here; on the beings that inhabit this place with you. There's a tree up a ways near Manzanita Post, two _thousand _years old, alive before Christ - think about that. _**They **_cut it down last week, to make banks, and railroad tracks, saloons, and brothels. A man like Purvis, he's just trying to feed his family. Live his life. What's important to him is livelihood, his children. He takes what he needs and wastes nothing, and nothing is taken for granted. But those railroad barons, and oil men, gold miners; they _rupture_, and destroy things, just like; and such as - Mr. Purvis. Maybe they don't realize it, but they're here - their purpose, is to stamp out every last semblance of meaning left on this rock, to end the fire that once burned in men; the desire not just to live, but to really be alive! Mr. Purvis has to fight through winters like this, he has to worry about cholera, smallpox, fever... There's enough in the hands of God to test Mr. Purvis' desire to be alive, without the intrusion of 'railroads'. Human's competing with nature to create problems for each other."

Bill stares at him blankly.

"And you ask what about us? What about us?" Dutch appears almost desperate "You've been with me all this time, and you still don't understand yet?"

"I'm trying to." Bill says with shame and worry.

"Who's side are you on? Do you want to go out there, in the name of 'progress', and destroy that which is only trying to live. Or do you want to help keep it going, by ending their 'machine': An endless mechanism of grinding gears. Moving, with no life, like the hands on a watch. We're not here to think about **us**, Williamson. We're putting ourselves at risk, because society on _both sides _has placed us on the **outside... **of all of that. To many there may be no such thing as a righteous gunslinger. But when you can hire men like us, to rob money from the poor - who in the poor can pay money to men like us to rob it back? Trying themselves'll just get them killed. So they come to us, and we ask nothing in return, because we take it **back **for them, if we took it away, what would really be theirs? Knowing that we tipped the balance in favor of those who deserve it, is enough for me. There's always bankers to rob, corrupt politicians to take advantage of. We want for nothing, we take what we want, the least we can do is extend a courtesy to those lacking the sand or resources to take it on themselves. Perhaps we could all have been soldiers or Pinkerton boys." the gang chuckles "But whether we operate with impunity or impurity in the eye of observers, the type of men we are means people are bound to die. It's what you choose to kill, and what you choose to die for that truly makes you the kind of man you are."


	2. You Don't Know Jack Pleasance

**Chapter 2:**

**You Don't Know Jack (Pleasance)**

Jack Pleasance, teacher, traveled to West Elizabeth from Mexico, on horseback, in the month of August. Before reaching the region, he found himself at gloomy swamplands, ones a town had formed amidst: Thieves Landing. He might have known from it's very name, but it saw fit to reaffirm for him as he entered, that it was not a calming place. At the very first horse's hoof to enter town, a very young man burst from the general store, holding a pistol, and was promptly gunned down, a bullet lodging between his shoulder blades. Jack simply carried on to the saloon.

Inside were all manner of ill mannered, with which he was not concerned. He sat at one of the bar stools and ordered, "Water."

The bartender looked sideways at him, "Do you know where you are mister? - You look like the type that can read to me."

"Call it Thieves Landing." he said calmly.

"Oh, that's right." the Bartender poured him his drink. "You know why they call it that dont'cha'?"

"Imagine it has something to do with all the thieves here." he took a sip.

Off to one corner, a group of men, played poker, a particular, young jokester, leading them on, jovially.

"Well - Don't get me wrong now, I ain't sayin' you look - soft-er nothin', but man you look like a schoolteacher."

"I am a schoolteacher."

The bartender poured him some more water. "If that's all you is, then you might wanna' get the hell outta here, 'cause these rowdy boys in here'll eat you alive."

"I'm looking for a place to bed down for the night."

"Well..." he thought, with a sinister grin. "Real nice girls next door... real, real nice."

"I'm not gonna' - "

"Jeeeezus Christ!"; the now annoyingly familiar voice of the young and belligerent. The dark haired, blue eyed jokester broke from his poker game, to approach Pleasance, drunk; of course. As he did, he exaggerated the shock he felt at seeing Pleasance at the bar; leaning forward, squinting. "Who the fuck is this!" he said pointing, as his buddies laughed. "Well how do you do gentle-man?" he asked in mock regality.  
>He sat down on the stool next to Jack. "Hey man, I'm just messin' about'cho know." he said, patting him on the back. He quickly grabbed Jack's drink and emptied it into his mouth. The sudden movement, coupled with disrespect forced Pleasance from his seat, he wrapped a hand around the man's jacket, who promptly pivoted over the bar, spraying mist across it. "WATER!" The man exclaimed with laughter, wiping his mouth "Damn you must be real hard, huh?" he joked. His demeanor instantly became cross, like that of a different person, "You better take yer hands off me city man or you got somethin' comin'."<br>Jack removed his hand, and the man became simply giddy again, "Hey would ya look at that, now, ain't that somethin'?" Jack, sat back down, and the man pulled a knife, pointing it right at his face, Jack's head turned slightly, eye falling right at the tip of the blade. "Now, give me yer money... NOW!" Jack only glared at him through the blade, "Now come on now! What you deaf all of a sudden!"

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Do I look confused!"

"Why don't you pull the pistol?" Jack beckoned. In the direction he was facing, and the way the man leaned his pistol was against the bar.

"I don't need iron for you. - Empty your pockets before I make mincemeat a yer face!"

Jack shifted in his seat. With his foot, he struck his would-be attacker just below the kneecap, and with his left hand, he grabbed the arm holding the knife, at the wrist, and with the right, he beat the side of the man's face with the palmed side of his closed fist repeatedly. When the man grabbed for his gun, awkwardly, and with his left hand. Pleasance drew his own knife, stabbing him between his neck and clavicle, shifting their combined weight forward, as well; to throw him off balance. When it seemed obvious the man wasn't ready to go down, Jack struck him two more times with the blade, once in the right side of the chest, and once in the center. The man gasped for air, which didn't come, falling into the stools behind him, pushing them apart, as the weight of his body sagged between them. Eventually they gave way, and he struck the floor, alongside one of the stools. He was unable to use either of his weapons, but he was clearly alive for a minute or two. It sounded like he was drowning.

The Bartender looked at Jack, "What kinda' teacher are you?"

"You sure taught him a lesson..." came an anonymous voice.

"I was just thirsty." Jack said quietly, looking at the knife. He whipped a handkerchief out to clean off the man's blood, before putting the knife away.

He looked around the bar and saw that everyone was watching him, but they didn't appear to be otherwise bothered. So he left. Unbeknownst to him, three men followed. He got past the steps before sensing them there, at the top, where they fanned out, in a line, shoulder to shoulder, half an arms length.

The man in the middle, grizzled and bearded, spoke. "Gus weren't nobody. He just some kid, and you slaughtered him like a steer."

Jack didn't turn his body halfway toward them, "He was enough of somebody to get what he had comin'."

"He's dead now."

"That's right." Jack said, "That's his fault, you want to make your own?"

"Was that a threat?" The man sizzled.

"You got a problem, you take it up with the law."

"Ain't no law 'round here, city man. We handle our business."

Jack turned back away. "You want to handle it here?" The thought jaded him.

"Gus was drunk, and stupid. Nobody here wanna die for him. But he had family. You come through here again, city man, you watch your back. We ain't all drunk and stupid - get me?"

"Yeah..." Pleasance said, "I do."

Once arrived in West Elizabeth, he began his intended task. Passing out fliers to locals, denouncing corrupt business practices. Particularly the mistreatment of workers, both local and foreign. He felt a little like a preacher. Not something he was comfortable with, but it was for a greater cause. Most would spit, spite, or split, very few of the whites made an effort to understand the hardships of Chinese laborers, and ironically negroes seemed just as disinterested in their plight. Everyone was out for themselves - true Americans.

On the seventh day, outside the Blackwater saloon he met Dutch van der Linde's gang, stumbling out the front door.

"Excuse me gentleman." he approached Javier Escuella who gave him an irritated and disbelieved look.

"Sorry, gringo, no God for me today. Okay?"

"Wait a minute Javier," van der Linde interrupted. "You're no Bible thumper, are ya'?"

"No sir."

"Yeah, I've heard about you..." he turned to the entire gang, "This boy's on our side." he put a hand on Jack's shoulder, "Good for you - you keep stickin' up for those workers."

Dutch was ready to carry on when Jack asked: "Care to take a flier."

Dutch wrapped an arm around him casually. "I got somethin' to tell you now..."

"I'm listening..." Jack said as the flier wilted.

"You'll get nowhere, with these... papers. People are too apathetic, you gotta' go right for the jugular" he pantomimed as he spoke, " - you know - like a lion..." Dutch was wobbly and drunk. He tried to make sense of his own words, but he certainly wasn't as charismatic as usual. "You understand the concept of Revolution?"

"I spent nearly half my life in Mexico." Jack answered.

Dutch appeared surprised and impressed, "Know how to use a gun?"

"Better than any man I know."

"Is that a fact?" Dutch came back, with a little bit of disbelief, it subsides slowly "I get the sense, that you and me are on the same page..." he waved one of the fliers around "this page." He shook Jack lightly, "You meet me here tomorra', I'll tell you a thing or two."

At dusk, an hour after they had left, Jack packed his remaining fliers into a satchel, and rose to sling them over his shoulder. What he saw in that instant was the barrel of a rifle, a beautiful young blond woman at the other end of it, with - as yet - unrequited murder in her eyes - she was clearly capable, her voice came horse and irritating; "You killed my brother, you son of a bitch!"

As he held up his hands defensively, he looked out into the streets, and saw not a soul. "Listen miss - I"

Smoke burst from the rifle, and he felt the hard ball pierce his chest, he felt his back, and the back of his head, hit the hard ground once beneath him. Then what he felt; was nothing.

He awoke in a bland, empty, white hospital room, he saw no nurses and it appeared empty, until he came to his right side, where he was greeted by a stubbled outlaw. "How you feelin'?" The man asked.

"Like a pretty lady just shot me."

"You look like a pretty smart guy. Think you'd know better than to piss off a pretty lady."

"I shot her b - ... I think she said it was her brother. - Or I stabbed him... in a bar. Could've been anybody I guess."

"Don't look like the type." the man said with a bit of a laugh.

Jack scraped his tongue across the roof of his mouth; dry as snakeskin. "Looks can be deceiving." he responded.

"I guess so." his guest said. He then grabbed at the top of his hat, titling it up a bit.

A feeling of skeptical wonder washed over Jack, as it occured to him how oblivious he was, "Who are you?"

"My name is John Marston. Dutch asked me to take care of you."

"Who?"

"Dutch, the guy you met outside the Saloon the other day."

"Right - Revolution." he said nodding.

"I heard more about you since you been shot. People been talkin'."

"Anything good?"

"Nothin' too particular. I heard some call you 'Pleasant Jack...'"

The look on Jack's face was coarse, "I don't know who told you that friend, but I fuckin' hate that name."

John only smiled, "That's not so bad..."

Jack was calm again quickly, "Hear anything else?"

"That you're pretty good with a gun. Except at the mercy of a lady... He - Dutch - he wants you to ride with us. It's an honor to accept you into our company."

"Why'd they send you?"

He lifted his head up one side and his eyes pointed toward the sky like there was something up there, "I was the only one who was sober." They were both amused, "So what is your name anyway?"

Jack tried as best he could to sit up "Oooh." He moaned in pain, "It's Jack, Pleasance."

"Really? I have a son name Jack - well John Jr. really, I call'm Jack..."

"Family man?"

John took his hat off "That reminds me; you got someplace you can stay?" he twirled the brim between his fingers.

"Ough... Hospital looks just fine from here."

He laughed "I'm sure it does. Tell you what. When you start feelin' better you come stay at my place, with my family. It's not a big place, but I'm sure Abigail and the Children would very much like to meet you, now that you're a member of our extended family."

"Just like that?"

He put his hat back on. "Don't know if you were expectin' somethin' different - that's just the way we do things. And all expenses are taken care of, by the way."

"You don't even know me."

"You're a good man, who needs help, Jack Pleasance." He stood, "I think I know enough... You take care now."

Jack looked off into his lonely room as John left, as if he wasn't quite so sure.


	3. Top Of The World

**Chapter 3:**

**Top Of The World**

Jack sits at the top of a dull cliff face, nestled in the curvature of a tall hunk of rock on the cold mountain top, with only a wool blanket beneath him to shield the ice. He has covered himself in layers and blankets. Dutch is beside him, holding a firm twig. Both are waiting for coffee to heat.

"What's the story?" Jack asks.

"Blizzards got us trapped here, too much snowfall... We have to stay here; for how long: I don't know."

"We were planning to hold up here right?"

"Yeah..." Dutch jabs the ground with a stick.

"So we're prepared for this - How much food do we have?"

"We could have enough. Just depends where the temperature gets to, and when."

"What are our chances, do you think?"

"We gotta' keep people fed, and we gotta' prepare to stay here as long as it takes. The meat won't spoil as fast - we can bury it in the snow, which means we gotta' have men'll hunt. Those men'll have to be well fed and some of the others... they won't like it."

Jack turns his head forward in deep contemplation, then whips it back, "Why not?"

"Because they're going to get just enough - but don't you get it? We're the hunters, we're the guys who know how to use the guns."

"...We lead them up here."

"All the men here are going to think we're lettin' 'em die. When there's not a damn thing we can do."

They look over, to the seventy five or so liberated railroad men who have joined their camp, and their cause. Many with families and small children. Desperate to be free from the bonds of indentured servitude, coerced into leaving one agony for another, working under the wing of a criminal, because no one else will stand for them.

Many of them are already malnourished, and weak, it seems obvious that many of them will not survive.

Two months from that point, a Chinese worker is thrown to the ground at the foot of Dutch, by the hand of Javier Escuella. The five powerful bearded men stand before their congregation like viking giants. Bearded and healthy - their subjects, bearded and withering. "I caught him stealing meat." Escuella tells Dutch.

"Did'ja now."

The man is unable to stand, or even crawl. He lays still.

"I thought that we had an understanding... We don't dole out food to everyone, because there isn't enough food to go around. Hunting is hard, hard to teach, and many of the animals up here are carnivorous beasts, there isn't enough time, weaponry, or even ammunition to teach all of you, and get you going. So we do the best we can. We do the best we can - and we have to eat - to get you any of it, we have to have our strength. I'm sorry that this man is starving, but this can't be tolerated. Williamson, take him into the cave and whip him."

The man begins screaming in Chinese, as they lift him. Apparently he knows by now what 'whip' means, and it gave him his energy back. Enough to scream, anyway.

"What's he saying?" Dutch asks, almost indifferent.

"He says he's sorry. He says that he's afraid to die." A young woman answers in a calm clear tone.

Dutch looks into the man's face, and he appears angry or spiteful. Not pitiful. "That ain't what he said..."

She looks at her feet, "He says you lead us here to die. He says you keep for yourself what could be shared with the rest of us. He says you're just like the men you say you hate."

"Really?" Dutch asks with lifted brows, "Fuck him." he walks away.

The young woman Hua, is the man's younger sister, stronger than most of the men in the little mountain village by now. The next night, over warm drinks she speaks with Jack about the incident, her brother's lashed back bleeding inches from them. "He's given me most of his food. He always says he isn't hungry... He told me when we first heard of being snowed in, that he thought one of us was going to die, and he was going to make sure it wasn't me. I haven't gained nor lost any weight. As one of the few healthy people left in the village, people look at me - I feel like a fat cow."

"Don't hate yourself for surviving."

"Father used to tell us stories when we were children. He called them folktales but I'm sure he made them up. One was about a young man who lived forever, and couldn't die. He watched men die all around him, but could do nothing..."

"What are you getting at?"

"It's just... sometimes I feel that way."

Jack looks out of their tent, a young Indian girl looks in, her face is quiet, and she looks into his eyes, his eyes drift down. Her feet are bare. "Hey!"

He jumps out of the tent as she walks away, but she's gone. Hua follows him. "Did you see someone?"

He spins all the way around in the other direction. Still no one. "You didn't see her?"

She shakes her head. "Perhaps you need rest."

"Maybe." he places a hand on her shoulder. "You tend to your brother."

"He keeps begging to die, I can't stand seeing him like this."

"I'm very sorry," he says "good night."

The next morning he's awoken by a sharp kick to the boot, he lifts his head, and the flap of a blanket wrapped around his eye. It's John standing over him with a rifle. "You ready to go huntin' - what're you still sleepin' for?"

"I'm up!" He says.

Out in the woods they trek through the snow searching for - deer - if they're lucky, but anything really, they walk and talk casually. "Miss your wife yet?" Jack asks pulling out a flask.

"Hell yeah, I miss my wife - what kinda' question is that?"

"Just a question..."

"Do you miss my wife yet?" They both look at each other. "That sounded wrong didn't it."

"Yeah, I do, sort of. - I miss her cooking."

"That'd be a first."

"You're right, I was only being polite, the woman is a terrible cook."

"I cooked all your meals..." John says as they stop in the snow.

There's an extra awkward pause, "Then I guess... you're no cook either." They continue on, amused. "Don't see her much now."

"What? My wife?"

"Yeah."

He shrugs, "Dutch says there's two kinds of women, whores and mothers, and only one spends her time on the road."

"What do you say?" Jack asks.

"I say I miss my wife." John says trying to diffuse the issue. "...Miss my son - and both Abigails. Hey Jack, how come you never had kids?"

"Maybe..." Jack says stopping.

"Maybe? What the hell kinda answer's maybe? What's wrong with you?"

"Shsshhssh!" He puts his hand up.

"What?"

"Did you... hear that?" A twig snaps, and Jack whips his gun around, firing in the direction of the noise. They hear a very human grunt, as a figure hits the snow. "Who the fuck was that?..."

In the distance ahead, they begin to hear screaming, maybe Chinese. - The man in agony.

"Great. You shot a Chinaman."

The two run toward him.

"Well what the fuck was he doing out here anyway?"

"Maybe he was hunting."

"If that's true he shoulda told somebody, don't they know we're out her with guns?"

When approached the man begins to speak in a hushed whisper. They realize that the language is not Chinese, but some Native dialect. - An Indian - He appears to be asking them something. The man startys to cry, looking above his head in hopelessness. "How'd he get up here?" John asks... "Get help."

"John he's," John looks at him angrily, "he's not going to make it."

They look down at him, and he's already dead. "I'm goin' to get somebody. -" John stands, and in front of him is a massive grizzly bear, it lets out a violent roar, and takes a swipe at John. It strikes his face, knocking him over the body of the dead man.

Jack raises his gun and shoots the Animal in the throat. It lumbers off. Blood trailing in the snow.

"I'm going to get help." Jack says, he picks up John's rifle, and sets it on his chest. "Case he comes back, huh?" And Jack leaves for camp.

Upon returning there is an uproar. He finds Hua's brother tied up at the wrists, upon a wood platform, Dutch van der Linde pointing a knife at his throat. "If you steal from one of us, you steal from us all!" Dutch decrees, "It's time ya'll learned that!"

"HEY!" Jack screams, rifle at the ready, pointed down. "What the fuck is this!"

"Jack... Just in time. I was about to make an example..."

"An example? Example of WHAT!"

"Half our meat is gone. I found the culprit..."

"You!"

"Yeah, me - what me!"

Jack laughs, shaking his head, "You. You know I'm really getting sick of all this shit! You're our 'wise and powerful leader'. You think he stole our food! A man who could barely walk yesterday - yesterday before you BEAT him half to death!"

"Who then?"

"I just shot some Indian, moving away from camp... You can ask John, but first we have to go and get him..."

"Why? Where is he?" Dutch asks.

"He was mauled by a grizzly. He'll be fine - I - I think, but, he needs help, now."

Dutch whistles. "Javier, Williamson. Let's go."

Jack points his rifle up at Hua's brother. "What about him?"

"Oh yes." Dutch takes his knife, and lets it drop out of his hand, the tip of blade stabs into a wooden plank next to his feet. He calmly draws his gun, and pulls the trigger at the side of the man's head. Leaving him to hang by his wrists.

He walks through the hushed crowd.

"What the hell do you call that?" Jack asks.

"I said I was setting an example didn't I... Half those people don't even know what you said."

"Or what you said." Jack points out.

Dutch's eyes burn through him, and then he treks into the woods.


	4. Miss Understanding

**Chapter 4:**

**Miss Understanding**

The bed's at Marston's place where not soft, nor where they in any way comfortable. They were hard and stubborn, all of them, Jack knew this, because his complaining had lead him to them all, what few there were in such a tiny place, and they were all unfit for sleeping. He was so uncomfortable, he could swear he was being prodded by something, and would rather sleep on the floor. As he came to roll over he saw John standing over him. "How'd you sleep."

"Like a newborn baby."

"Sounds good."

"You should know; they wake up every two hours, don't they." Jack had a look around. The building they inhabited was a small structure, but one with as many rooms as possible, it was dilapidated, and the air smelled of soggy wood. "I never asked you what this place was supposed to be."

"Some kinda opium den. Closed it down not too recently, when the railroad found out their workers were medicating themselves... - heavily." He put a fist at his hip, "It's just a temporary place, they usually are. When you work with Dutch you aren't in one place very long, wherever you lay your hat, that's your home."

"Must be hard when you've got a family." Jack confided.

"Very." Marston admitted. "I got some errands to run for Dutch. You goin' be alright here by yourself?"

"Very." Jack insisted.

"Alright then." John left.

Abigail brought Jack some coffee. "Here you are Mr. Drifter."

"Thank you ma'am, but just the same, no thank you" he put his hands up, "You make that coffee too strong for me."

"You oughtta remember what happened the last time you raised your hands to a lady."

"How could I forget."

John Jr. and the younger Abigail entered, John J. screaming his little head off. "Look what I GOT!"

"It was mine," Abby, screamed back, "I found it!"

"She's a girl!" John J. said with supperiority.

His mother slapped the side of his head, "Right is right, don't matter what's in your pants."

He looked up at her with some confusion, "That's not what Uncle Dutch says?"

"Don't go listenin' to everything he says - like it's the gospel truth. He's deservin' of respect, and you give it, but if you listened to all that; you'd be disobeyin' me... do you want that boy?"

"What about dad?"

"What!"

"No ma'am." He came correct

"That's better. You gotta' ask your daddy first, you go right ahead, but I'll tell you right now, he'll agree with me nine times outta' ten."

"How often is that?" that he asked rubbing snott from his nose.

She scratched the back of her neck, "It's an expression honey. You know I don't do numbers that well... Now what'd you two groundhogs dig up this time?"

John Jr. held it up with both hands: "A frog"

"Ew, don't you two know they give you warts?"

"I found it!" Little Abby announced proudly, and obvliviously.

"Excuse me," Jack interrupted from his bed, "I believe that's toads, miss."

"What?"

"Uh, that give you warts, ma'am, it's toads, not frogs. And an old wives tale if I ever heard one, I'm sure."

"Well," she sat down on the bed by his feet, "You are the school teacher."

"Yes but, I wasn't that kind of teacher, really." John J. pushed the frog at his face, "Yes, I see that. Thank you. What are you going to name him?"

"It's a girl!" Abby said from behind her brother, pointing to it.

"Maybe Jack Jr." John J. said gleefully.

His mother looked soured by the idea, "Don't we got enough people with the same names around here. Before the frog, we already got two 'Johns' and two 'Jacks' between three people. That's right isn't it?..."

Jack laughed, "That's right."

"A teacher like you, you must really think I'm ignorant."

"I told you I wasn't that kind of teacher."

"Smarter than me, I'm sure."

"Possibly." He admitted.

"What did you teach."

"I taught Spanish, to Americans. But when that well ran dry, I jumped ship, and decided to teach English to Mexicans."

"Must be hard knowin' all them languages."

He laughed again, "Well, it's only two ma'am."

"The more I talk the more I sound like a damn fool."

"No..." He shook his head. "This isn't the kind of environment, I'd imagine would produce the kind of learning we're talking about, but I'm sure you know a thing or two. Believe it or not, you seem like a smart lady to me."

"You're just butterin' me up so I'll cook you warm supper."

"I'll pass."

She slapped at his shoulder, "You and my husband, cut from the same darn cloth."

"Do you know how to read?"

"Well... no. And I don't imagine much use to it now, what with school bein' over and all. They tried to teach me at tha orphanage, but John and I ran away before then."

"How old where the two of you?"

"I was a lot younger than him..."

"So he had already learned?"

"No..." she paused, "Dutch taught him."

"You found him together?" She nodded, "And he taught John how to read... but not you?"

She collected all of the cups from the table next his bed, "I'm sure if you won't be drinkin' from any'a these I should take them away."

As she turned to go toward the oven; "I'm just trying to understand what happened here." Jack insisted.

She dropped the empty metal cups on the oven - hard, "He said whores didn't need learnin'." She turned back to face him, "Understand it now?" she faced back toward the oven, rubbing her face with her palm, "If you're like this with most women, I'm startin' to understand why you got shot."


	5. The Immortals

When Jack, Esquella, Williamson and Dutch arrive back at camp, carrying an injured Marston, they find the encampment in ruins. One woman's body is being dragged away by wolves. Williamson pulls his gun, scaring them off.

Javier looks out over the dead. "What the hell happened here?"

"Indians." Hua says, she's standing at the center of a former campfire. Scratched, covered in snow, and dirt, but otherwise unharmed. "They came while you were away, and slaughtered everyone."

"Why?" Williamson demands.

"How should I know?" She asks confused. He drudges through the snow after her, as quick as he can. "No wait!" she protests, trying to turn away. He grabs her by the hair with one hand, and the neck with the other, shaking her - trying to stabilize her, "No, please!" she cries.

"Filthy whore! Think I don't know?... They left you alive for a reason didn't they! To give me a message - well give it up!"

"They tried to kill me too." She says in a slippery voice. "I barely managed to get away. They didn't say anything." He tosses her into the snow.

"Nothing huh..." He looks disgusted by her, as she cries just under his feet. He pulls his pistol aiming it at her forehead, she lets out a horrified squeal.

"STOP IT!" Jack says pushing the gun away. "Are you really going to blame her for this."

Dutch gestures the gun at Jack, in a non threatening manner "I don't have to blame her for this Jack... I blame you. But I don't want to shoot you - I want to shoot her. So if you'll excuse me..." He aims his gun again. Jack, points his, then Williamson at Jack, and Javier at Williamson. Dutch looks over at Escuella... "Now that's odd..."

"We don't need this infighting." Escuella declares. "The situation is hopeless enough as it is."

"What're you doin' pointin' your gun at my face KHAvier?" Williamson asks, mocking his name.

"Shut your mouth Bill."

John can only watch from the patch of snow they left him in, on his knees, using one hand to keep himself steady; unable to stand. "Ya'll are a bunch... of crazy fools."

They begin to hear the pounding of horse hooves, relatively near, it gets louder, coming up the mountain pass toward them eventually they see heads over the pass, heads bodies, faces, and eyes, all revealed, all Natives. About twenty of them.

They draw their guns at this new force, neither side opens fire. The leader of the group Maquinna rides forward on his horse. "Hello Dutch."

"Maquinna." Dutch acknowledges.

"You don't look surprised..."

"I do not." Dutch admits earnestly, placing his hands on his hips. "How'd you get through the pass."

"These mountain are our domain Dutch. We've lived here for centuries."

"Ancient Native American secrets... huh?" Dutch asks sarcastically.

Maquinna where's a sly smirk, "You probably would have waited up here another month and just starved to death... It pays to actually understand nature, not just idolize it."

"I'll keep that in mind. Dutch holsters his weapon, there's still the matter of you killed all my men." Dutch outstretches both arms, "Why?"

"I never gave permission to any of you, to come up here. We have been situated, unaware of your presence, not far below. Unaware, but still affected, it seems. The curious lack of food was damaging to our people, some of us died. So; though it was dangerous to do so, we sent a man further up the mountain, if only in the hopes of finding more food... and before he could return, I'm told by my scouts. He was murdered, by one of your hunters."

"That was an accident!" John says, "I'm the one who did it. If you're planning to kill anyone now, it might as well be me. But let the rest of these people go."

"Noble, but futile... In any event, there aren't a whole lot of you left. And what are you doing here Dutch, building your ridiculous barracks? It's bad enough you build them after I said no, you build them right here - with Chinamen!"

"Those Chinamen accepted my offer. We needed place away from the law, for the winter, somewhere not only that they wouldn't look, but that was near impossible to survive anyway. If we didn't build barracks we would have died out here anyway." Dutch explains breathlessly.

"That sounds like your problem; and you still built them on my land!"

"Contested land - land that might not be if you'd'a listened to me, and taken the deal."

"You're quite the business pioneer for an Anarchist." he leans forward a bit, "You're a thug, Van Der Linde, the only thing aligning myself with you would get me is a price on my head."

"I'm a thug?" Dutch raises his eyebrows, straightens his back, and glances around, "Look around..."

There's a powerful silence.

"...Now... You gonna kill us, or what?"

"My message is sent. Return to my land, and I'll have you killed."

Dutch smiles, feeling light on his feet. "Why is it you're so afraid to shoot me? Is it because your men agree with me? Afraid to upset the order of things?"

"Why is it you're so unafraid to do the same?"

"That's what I do."

"Then why haven't you shot me?"

"I got no real quarrel with you Maquinna." he nods his head at him "But I wish you'd see eye to eye with me on certain pressing matters."

"If you're so worried about the white man coming in and building on my land, why did you dredge up here in the freezing snow to build on my land?" Dutch has no response. "I won't terrorize people just to make a point. I do wrong when I'm wronged, I do favors when I'm favored - that's how I operate - it's fair."

"We'll see ya'll later then." Dutch gives up, waving them away.

Jack approaches Hua. She smiles sadly at him, "Thank you, for your kindness."

"It's nothing." He looks out over the horses as they leave. He sees the young girl again, with bare feet. She walks along, alone while everyone else is on horseback.

"Looks like we're survivors again."

Jack breaks away from his trance; "Huh?"

"The immortals."


	6. What is Right

Jack stood in front of the classroom, chalk in hand, looking out over the faces of his students, primarily children. "'C' and 'K', make the same sound, usually, where 'C-H' makes a 'cha' a 'cha' sound, and 'K' can be silent, 'C' is not usually silent, and putting an 'H' in front of a 'K' will not change the sound of the letter, the way it does for 'C'

A girl in pigtails, around nine, raised her hand, her face, bruised, and her eye was black.

"Yes." he pointed with his chalk.

"Your name is Jack?"

"Mm-hm."

"J-A-C-K?"

"Correct."

"Why do you need the 'C' and the 'K' in your name?"

"It's not uncommon for words and names to have unnecessary letter in any language."

"Why?"

Jack was baffled, but also ultimately annoyed by the question; he gave the best answer he could think of, "People like to hold on to things that don't matter... Alright lesson over, you can go home."

The kids filter out of the room, shambling kind of slowly, Jack stopped one of his younger students from leaving, "How are you doing with the class?"

"Very well, I feel like I'm learning a lot."

"Your father's not here today? Your mother either."

"My father... he had to tend to my mother - she's very sick."

"I see..." He looks off across the classroom.

"Did you want something else? Mr. Pleasance."

"Yes, actually, I've seen you're friends with a young girl in this class, Nayeli, I think her name is?"

"Yes. She's very funny. I like her a lot."

"Her face was bruised today, do you know how that happened?"

She looked frightened, like she was afraid of being accused, "No." she looked down at the floor, then back up again quickly, taking in a breath, "Did you ask her - yet?"

"No I thought it better if I didn't put her on the spot."

"Oh... she said easing up a bit." she wiped her nose, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Mr. Pleasance."

"It's okay Luisa, you can go now, your mother needs you."

He sat in his chair contemplating the situation, the very nature of it continued to make him uneasy.

The next day, as parents brought their children to the schoolhouse, Mr. Pleasance watched as Nayeli's father lifted her by one arm out of the wagon, "Stop IT! Stop complaining!" he yelled, "This is a problem that you're going to have to deal with! It's the world we live in. Being sad is no excuse not to go to school! Now GET IN THERE!" she continued to cry "NOW!"

As Nayeli ran past him, Jack moved forward to question her father. "Your daughter Nayeli is very bright - intelligent. She's a smart child."

"I know." her father said almost proudly, "But she's stubborn, and disrespectful."

"I can't imagine why. Looks like you do plenty to get through to her."

"Yes... I try but..." the father said nodding, then he saw the look on Jack's face, "You mock me?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were unaware; In my country, we don't hit nine year old girls in the face."

"You are a liar, Mr. Pleasance, but even if that statement were true, you know nothing of the position I'm in, you are in no position to judge me!"

"I can see pretty clearly from here."

The father nodded sarcastically "Can you now? I'm curious, what it is you think you know, Jack Pleasance... This is a personal matter, and a matter that is unfortunately not unique to my country, but an epidemic, one that I can do nothing about."

Jack both confused and disgusted, walked away.

After night fell he tracked Nayeli back to her house, it was fairly isolated, a farming place. He held his position outside, and heard screaming inside, between Nayeli's mother Nina, and her father Indio.

"How could you let this happen to her!" Nina pleaded.

"What do you want me to do! WHAT!" he threw something glass across the room, "This isn't my fault, they won't listen to me! What am I supposed to do - kill them!"

"Indio - Indio, please -"

"NO!... I'm going out!" Jack saw him as he came across the candlelit window, "... to get drunk."

Soon after, Jack followed him to the bar. Where the man said nothing, and drank nearly the whole night, then he followed him again, on his way back to the house, undetected every step of the way. When Indio jumped off his horse to piss on a rock, that's when Jack took the opportunity to get closer. Jack charged as Indio finished up.

He made no effort to mask the sound of his feet approaching; quick, determined and steady. "Hey!" he said in English, after Indio was finished, the man whipped around to face him *BANG!* the bullet hit Indio in the chest. He fell over instantly. Jack walked over and stood above him, Indio looked him in the eye, but only breathed. Jack was not there long, before he fired three more shots into his body. Then he went home, and slept comfortably.

After three days of Nayeli's absence, he was approached by her mother, just outside the school. She greeted him feebly, which made him uncomfortable, but he was sure he'd done the right thing. "Mr. Pleasance?" she asked.

"Yes."

"A man, killed my husband, not too long ago..."

"Oh?..." he asked calmly, then he caught himself, "I mean, I'm sorry... very sorry to hear that." The hot morning sun burned against their skin. He felt hotter now. "Perhaps, we should go inside."

They do.

"I think I know who did it." Nina said bluntly.

He was horrified. "How?"

"You must understand, things have been happening, here, that are out of our control, awful things, that I'd rather not repeat... I am ashamed."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, "I need you to stop speaking to me in riddles and tell me what's going on." he's almost afraid to ask; "Who! Who killed your husband?"

"Captain Eliseo David."

He shook his head, with his eyes closed, "Who?"

"Colonel Sanchez's puppet. When girl's reach a certain age sometimes... Eliseo, he comes for them. Then if he likes them he will take them back to Sanchez... Mr. Pleasance, my daughter is missing..."

"Your daughter? Nayeli?" he walked away quickly, and turned back, "How is this possible."

"My husband was trying to convince Eliseo to leave my daughter alone, he was doing everything he could... and they killed him. Now they have her."

His face empties all emotion, he is blank, his eyes pierce a vanishing point, and the implications of his actions strike him. Then... hopelessness, "Nina, I'm not sure what I can do."

"I heard you used to be a gunman."

Jack stood in front of the classroom, chalk in hand, looking out over the faces of his students, primarily children. "'C' and 'K', make the same sound, usually, where 'C-H' makes a 'cha' a 'cha' sound, and 'K' can be silent, 'C' is not usually silent, and putting an 'H' in front of a 'K' will not change the sound of the letter, the way it does for 'C'

A girl in pigtails, around nine, raised her hand, her face, bruised, and her eye was black.

"Yes." he pointed with his chalk.

"Your name is Jack?"

"Mm-hm."

"J-A-C-K?"

"Correct."

"Why do you need the 'C' and the 'K' in your name?"

"It's not uncommon for words and names to have unnecessary letter in any language."

"Why?"

Jack was baffled, but also ultimately annoyed by the question; he gave the best answer he could think of, "People like to hold on to things that don't matter... Alright lesson over, you can go home."

The kids filter out of the room, shambling kind of slowly, Jack stopped one of his younger students from leaving, "How are you doing with the class?"

"Very well, I feel like I'm learning a lot."

"Your father's not here today? Your mother either."

"My father... he had to tend to my mother - she's very sick."

"I see..." He looked off, across the classroom.

"Did you want something else? Mr. Pleasance."

"Yes, actually, I've seen you're friends with a girl in class, Nayeli, I think her name is?"

"Yes. She's very funny. I like her a lot."

"Her face was bruised today, do you know how that happened?"

She looked frightened, like she was afraid of being accused, "No." she looked down at the floor, then back up again quickly, taking in a breath, "Did you ask her - yet?"

"No I thought it better if I didn't put her on the spot."

"Oh... she said easing up a bit." she wiped her nose, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you, Mr. Pleasance."

"It's okay Luisa, you can go now, your mother needs you."

He sat in his chair contemplating the situation, the very nature of it continued to cause him unease.

The next day, as parents brought their children to the schoolhouse, Mr. Pleasance watched as Nayeli's father lifted her by one arm out of the wagon, "Stop IT! Stop complaining!" he yelled, "This is a problem that you're going to have to deal with! It's the world we live in. Being sad is no excuse not to go to school! Now GET IN THERE!" she continued to cry, and protest "NOW!"

As Nayeli ran past him, Jack moved forward to question her father. "Your daughter Nayeli is very bright - intelligent. She's a smart child."

"I know." her father said almost proudly, "But she's stubborn, and disrespectful." he said re-securing some items to his wagon.

"I can't imagine why. Looks like you do plenty to get through to her."

"Yes... I try but..." the father said nodding, then he saw the look on Jack's face, "You mock me?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were unaware; In my country, we don't hit nine year old girls in the face."

"You are a liar, Mr. Pleasance, but even if that statement were true, you know nothing of the position I'm in - you are in no position to judge me!"

There were scratches on the man's face. "I can see pretty clearly from here."

The father nodded sarcastically "Can you now? I'm curious, what it is you think you know, Jack Pleasance... This is a personal matter, and a matter that is unfortunately not unique to my country, but an epidemic, one that I can do nothing about."

"How can you say that?" Jack both confused and disgusted, walked away.

After night fell he tracked Nayeli back to her house, it was fairly isolated, a farming place. He held his position outside, and heard screaming inside, between Nayeli's mother Nina, and her father Indio.

"How could you let this happen to her!" Nina pleaded.

"What do you want me to do! WHAT!" he threw something glass across the room, "This isn't my fault, they won't listen to me! What am I supposed to do - kill them!"

"Indio - Indio, please -"

"NO!... I'm going out!" Jack saw him as he came across the candlelit window, "... to get drunk."

Soon after, Jack followed him to the bar. Where the man said nothing, and drank nearly the whole night, then he followed him again, on his way back to the house, undetected every step of the way. When Indio jumped off his horse to piss on a rock, that's when Jack took the opportunity to get closer. He charged as Indio finished up.

He made no effort to mask the sound of his feet approaching; quick, determined and steady. "Hey!" he said in English, after Indio was finished, the man whipped around to face him *BANG!* the bullet hit Indio in the chest. He fell over instantly. Jack walked over and stood above him, Indio looked him in the eye, but only breathed. Jack was not there long, before he fired three more shots into his body. Then he went home, and slept comfortably.

After three days of Nayeli's absence, he was approached by her mother, just outside the school. She greeted him feebly, which made him uncomfortable, but he was sure he'd done what was right. "Mr. Pleasance?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I feel I must speak to you... A man, killed my husband, not too long ago..."

"Oh?..." he asked calmly, then he caught himself, "I mean, I'm sorry... very sorry to hear that." The hot morning sun burned against their skin. He felt hotter just then. "Perhaps, we should go inside." They did.

"I think I know who did it." Nina said bluntly.

He was horrified. "How?"

"You must understand, things have been happening, here, that are out of our control, awful things, that I'd rather not repeat... I am ashamed."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, "I need you to stop speaking to me in riddles and tell me what's going on." he's almost afraid to ask; "Who! Who killed your husband?"

"Captain Eliseo David."

He shook his head lightly, with his eyes closed, "Who?"

"Colonel Sanchez's puppet. When girl's reach a certain age, sometimes... Eliseo, he comes for them. Then if he likes them, he will take them back to Sanchez..." he let's go of her. "Mr. Pleasance, my daughter is missing..."

"Your daughter? Nayeli?" he walked away quickly, and turned back, "How is this possible."

"My husband was trying to convince Eliseo to leave my daughter alone, he was doing everything he could... but they wouldn't listen. And they killed him... Now they have her."

His face emptied all emotion, he was blank, his eyes pierced a vanishing point, and the implications of his actions struck him like a handful of iron. Then... hopelessness, "Nina, I'm not sure what I can do."

"I heard you used to be a gunman."

He shook his head violently, this time, "Who! Who did you hear that from!"

"It doesn't matter... Mr. Fortuna is planning to defend his daughter's honor against the government, I will fight with him; as I have nothing left to lose. We must not let them take everything from us."

"I'm not sure I understand why you're telling me this."

"Isn't it obvious? Mr. Pleasance, I'm asking for help, Nayeli -" she breathed in heavily, "Luisa, is your student."

"I'm not a revolutionary, Nina. This isn't my fight."

"What is?" she asked, point blank.

He hung his head. "You don't want my help."

She moved in closer to him, "I need it."

He turned his head away, "I don't think..."

She moved her hand up his inner thigh, moving closer to him, more intimate. "I need it." she said caressing his chin with her cheek.

He struck her forearm away, hard enough for it to hurt, he was devastated; but he looked furious; "Don't you EVER do that again"

"I'm sorry." she said shamefully. Before fleeing across the dusty room, she stopped as she opened the heavy wooden door. "Eliseo is supposed to be coming for Luisa tomorrow. I expect to die, doing what I believe is right. I could not protect my own daughter from these animals. - I will not give in to them silently another time. I will fight, even though the fight is not mine, even though I am not capable." she finally looked at him, "You are capable, aren't you Mr. Pleasance, but you won't fight... because you don't know - what - I've - lost. I hope, no matter what you do, that in the eyes of God, it is the right thing." she left the schoolhouse, the door stayed open a bit, letting in a shaft of light, dust rising up inside it. Jack sat on his desk, unsure of his purpose. How could he know, at this point, what the right thing was?


End file.
